Snippets of Life
by Mihra-Attar
Summary: Snippets from later years of The Enemy of my Father. Note: AU. Dumbledore is evil. Harry is in Slytherin. Blaise is a girl. Ratings vary.
1. Behind His Back

Disclaimer: The usual. Most of it isn't mine, except the concepts for the outfits, I'm pretty sure I can claim those specific combinations, and I'm not at all profiting from it. I have nothing...etc.

AN: I'm making an executive decision on the numbers of Tri-Wizard students that showed up from the other two schools. The assumption is that the Slytherins have access to all of this information from one source or another.

Also: This is a world in which Harry is Dark, Harry and Malfoy have a lust/needling relationship, and Dumbledore is evil and worth of being irritated at every turn. This may or may not be incorporated into The Enemy of My Father at some later point. For now it's just a brain-annoyance I had to put down before I exploded.

Not proofed much, nor beta'd...just so you know.

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"So the Tri-Wizard tournament is going to be held at Hogwarts?" Harry was lounging on a rather plush couch in Malfoy Manor. His hair was tied in a loose tail, brushing his shoulder blades when he walked, and currently squished between his back and the couch. His scar was especially visible because he didn't have the cover of bangs, but Lucius said, and Harry(, Draco, Gregory, Vincent, Pansy, Blaise, and pretty much everyone else who mattered) agreed that his hair looked much better long. He was currently wearing a pair of dark blue jeans with white stitching, and a form-fitting white polo shirt with a green-with-silver-snakes denim vest strapped over it, closed up his front by sixteen hidden hook-and-eye fasteners underneath four straps that buckled tightly.

"Yup." Draco was sprawled across a second couch, his own hair kept short and styled to look like he'd barely taken the time to comb it. His pants were leather, much to his father's dismay, black with house-elf sewn silver serpents twining down the seams. His shirt was silk, silver with green serpents, with full sleeves, modern cuffs and neck, and Slytherin-crest-stamped buttons.

"And Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are the other two competing schools." Harry didn't look at Draco, and Draco didn't look at Harry. Had they broken this unspoken rule bad things would have happened.

"Yup."

"And your father is a fish."

"Nope." Draco paid attention, he just didn't show it.

"Okay. Tell me about Beauxbatons and Durmstrang."

"Beauxbatons is somewhere in south France, light blue robes, father would have killed mother if she'd tried to send me there, too flashy-fancy school of light. Durmstrang is somewhere north, Bulgaria, Scandinavia, something like that, blood red robes, dad wanted to send me there but it was too far, nice school that teaches dark arts." Draco's bored drawl listed off the facts that were the most important to plotting, location, color, and teachings, with indifference.

"Wait, south France? They're not going to have _anything_ that'll hold up to our weather." Harry said, sitting up abruptly, a plan starting to form in the back of his mind.

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When the students of Hogwarts lined up to welcome their guests sixteen Slytherins were missing. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were among the missing. Dumbledore was very unhappy about this. Whenever those two disappeared something bad happened.

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Harry and Draco hadn't gone far. They and the other Slytherins were, in fact, waiting just beyond the front doors, blue cloaks of a velvet-like material that was heavy and warm but wouldn't rumple anything under it tossed over their arms. They were not watching the landing strip, but their lookout, who would be letting them know when the Beauxbatons students had stepped out of their carriage.

Oohs and Ahhs were annoying to have to listen to when you couldn't see what was causing them, but then the signal came, and all sixteen strode purposefully forwards.

_{Oh the joys of pen pals.} _Harry chuckled to himself, striding towards one of the ten Beauxbaton girls, one Fleur Delacour. They knew the names and faces of the ten girls and six boys from Beauxbaton and the nine boys and five girls of Durmstrang. They had cloaks sized for each Beauxbaton entrant, and the ten boys and six girls of Slytherin each had a particular student to gift their held cloak to. After the Beauxbaton students had been settled nine of the boys and five of the girls would greet pre-determined Durmstrang students, each of them ready with a tidbit with which to start conversations. They had not, of course, let their esteemed Headmaster in on their plans, though Professor Snape knew just enough to cover them.

Every Slytherin involved in their...escapade...was well-instructed in the courtly arts, and right on cue the boys bowed and the girls curtsied to their assigned, shivering target, offering the cloaks with a murmured 'courtesy of Hogwarts and House Slytherin.' The students took the cloaks with very little suspicion, throwing them on quickly.

When all the Beauxtbatons students were wearing their cloaks they were presented with the arm of their greeter, and escorted out of direct sight-line of the ranks of Hogwarts students to await their headmistress.

It had been long debated whether the greeters should remain with the Beauxbatons students or leave them, and the final decision was that they would be uncomfortable with the Slytherins so they were left with whispered encouragement to sit at the Ravenclaw table.

When the Durmstrang students strode off their ship after their Headmaster. Harry and the other Slytherins, minus two as Durmstrang was bringing nine boys and five girls, used the time in which Karkaroff greeted Dumbledore to introduce themselves to their targets and strike up soft conversations.

Harry, because his fame made him relatively immune to the fame of others, and because they'd already met, was paired with Victor Krum. As he started talking to Krum he kept his eyes and ears trained on the other Hogwarts students and their Headmaster.

"Do not vorry. I varned Headmaster Karkaroff of vhat you vere going to do. Othervise he vould haf cursed you." Krum had been the Durmstrang 'pen pal' that Harry had been in contact with since he and Draco had first learned of the tournament. Harry had explained his intense desire to needle Dumbledore at every opportunity, and after hearing some of what the estimable headmaster of Hogwarts got into Krum had agreed that it was an appropriate pastime.

Harry and Krum led the Durmstrang entourage, happily chatting with their Slytherin greeters, into the entrance hall as the Hogwarts students were dismissed. Both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang wanted to make secondary entrances to the feast, so they waited in the entrance hall as the Hogwarts students trickled into the great hall. Only the Slytherin greeters, rejoined by the two who hadn't been part of the secondary greeting, loitered in the great hall, bringing the students from both schools into animated conversations.

"Ahem." Severus Snape's purpose was to get the attention of his students and send them into the great hall as the last of the other Hogwarts students were trickling in. "Dumbledore is going to kill you." He added as Harry passed him.

Seating at the Slytherin table was left open in such a way that each greeter had two seats to attend to, each purposefully arranged for the Durmstrang students to re-join their greeters.

The Beauxbatons display was impressive...in a fluttery, light way.

The Durmstrang display was impressive in a powerful, dark way.

Dumbledore was glaring daggers at Harry and Draco, but mostly at Harry, the entire time.


	2. Blaise's Frustration

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing the characters.

A/N: If you have a problem with (negative) descriptions of body parts don't read this: It's 'girl talk'.

It should be noted, before someone starts yelling at me, that this is in an AU where Blaise is a girl.

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"I want to be a boy!" Blaise Zabini stormed into the room she shared with the stoic Kira White, eyes blazing, arms crossed defensively over her chest.

Kira shrugged. "Ask Professor Snape for some polyjuice potion?" She didn't bother moving from her chair, and her eyes never strayed from the history book on goblin rebellions or somesuch that she was reading.

"No! Permanently!" Blaise stormed around the desk-and-bookshelf blockade the two had put in place their first year, their first week, at Hogwarts. "I want to be a boy Permanently!" Her hands slammed down on Kira's desk, inches from an open ink bottle. Kira sighed and looked up, leaning back to meet Blaise's gaze without straining her neck.

"What is it this time?" She asked, crossing her own arms patiently.

"These!" Blaise exploded, cupping her breasts, admittedly ample for such a slender girl. "They get in the way, they bounce and draw male stares like flies to vinegar, and they **hurt**!"

"And you'd rather have nutsacks?" Kira asked, raising her eyebrows in an expression of incredulity. "Dangly, sweaty, stretchy, hairy sacks hanging down between your legs. Painful when they get hit, or crushed, or pinched between hairy thighs, liable to turn blue if you can't find a bathroom and someone inconveniences you?" She was laying it on a bit thick, but it had the desired effect.

"Eurgh! Don't say that!" Blaise shuddered, jumping away as though she'd been slapped. "Okay, okay, I _don't_ want to be a boy. Though, it'd be kind of nice to be one for a day. Maybe I'll ask Professor Snape for some polyjuice potion and permission to switch bodies with someone for a day." Her eyes lit up. "What do you say? Harry maybe, or Draco?"

"Just don't expect me to switch with Vincent or Gregory, or anyone else for that matter. I have no interest in being anyone but me." Kira turned back to her book, eyes falling to the precise place she'd left off. Blaise shrugged and, with a final glare at her offending breasts, grabbed her charms book and started on an essay for Professor Flitwick.


	3. Your Father rated M

Disclaimer: not mine, just fun.

This is based on the world of The Enemy of My Father, however, it does not effect that story unless I chose to put it in later.

Warning: Implied sex between an adult and a minor. Also, implied sex in general, and mild language. If you're not okay with that, don't read.

**&*&*&*&**

Something was wrong. Well, not wrong so much as not right. Harry frowned as he looked around the common room from his place sprawled across the floor with his notes for Transfiguration splayed in front of him like a particularly ugly whore; unappealing in the extreme, but he still had to do it. He looked around again, trying to figure out what was setting him on edge. What was different?

"If you're wondering, it's that Draco and Pansy aren't snogging in the corner." Blaise's drawl flowed over him, and he realized that, yes, that was what was setting him off so badly.

"Wait," Harry looked closer to the fire, "Vincent's down here though."

"Yeah." Kira's voice was vague, and if Harry bothered to look over his shoulder he knew she would still be buried in her work. "I heard Pansy talking. She wants to be Draco's first like the rest of us want to pass our O.W.L.s."

"Wait, they're..." Harry trailed off, suddenly grinning with a shudder of sympathy for his blond friend. "I'm going to go see if Draco needs help with his...Charms, yeah. I'm going to see if he needs help with Charms." He stood up, grinning at Blaise's rather wicked smile.

"Hmm. Send him my best." Blaise waved, absently returning to her essay. "He'll need it." She muttered under her breath.

Harry walked down the corridor, slowly but surely making his way to Draco's room. Grinning, he placed his ear against the door and listened. If he guessed right the feeling of something strange going on had started about an hour before, and sure enough what he heard from beyond the closed door was the distinctly unsatisfied murmurings of a post-coital argument about ways, means and orgasms...or lack thereof.

Harry knocked. There was a screech of rage, then the storming footsteps of a light body moving across the floor. The door opened, revealing a furious Pansy Parkinson.

"What do _you_ want?" Her voice was brittle with fury.

"Well," Harry leaned against the partially open door, wrenching it out of her surprised arm so that it crashed against the wall and he could see Draco, dressed, on his bed with a stormy look on his face. "_Draco_ has been having a few problems with his _Charms_ work, and I _thought_ I might give him a hand." The pure arrogance on Harry's face was utter farce, as was the amazingly stupid drawl he used, courtesy of comparing how Professor Snape, Lucius Malfoy and Draco Malfoy talked and then combining the three.

"And you had to come up here now?" Pansy shrieked. "The door was closed! You couldn't have taken the hint and come back later?"

"I _did_ knock." Harry looked over at Draco. "After _all_, Draco _does_ leave the door closed unless he's going _through_ it." He lowered his eyelids, letting the lashes obscure his vision as he turned his eyes back to Pansy.

Pansy let out another ear-destroying shriek and started ranting at him, screaming about this and that. He caught "inconsiderate boys," "stupid glasses" and "born in a barn" along with a whole host of curse words that people really weren't supposed to use in polite company,- not that he was being polite company at the moment. Finally Pansy got fed up, and stormed past him, her bag jumping to her hand just in time to attempt to hit him in the stomach.

"Pansy? Really?" A questioning eyebrow was raised as Harry closed Draco's door after the girl disappeared down the hall, stepping forward the four paces to pull out a chair and straddle it, facing Draco. "I mean, I know she's been hanging all over you since first year, but did she have to be your first? You could do so much better than that."

"So, who was _your_ first then?" Draco was sprawled backwards on his bed, feet kicking his pillow absently, his body definitely showing signs of recent release, but his face scowling. Across the room Vincent was just settling down at his desk, a Transfiguration text open in front of him. He had followed Harry, or perhaps Pansy's voice, arriving just in time to catch the tail-end of Pansy's tirade.

"Ever?" Harry shrugged. "Your father."

There was a moment of complete silence.

"Fuck you Potter." Draco shoved himself into a sitting position.

"I prefer females, Draco, but if you insist," Harry leaned forward and fluttered his eyes, "top or bottom?"

Draco stared, his eyes locked on Harry's.

"You're not joking." It wasn't a question.

"No." Harry didn't even blink while he spoke.

"What the hell?" Draco's voice hadn't recovered and was still very, very blank.

"I was curious." Harry shrugged nonchalantly, making a mental note not to tell Draco who his first _female_ had been.

"Curious." Draco seemed to be trying to start his brain again. "Why not me then?" Draco said blankly.

Harry couldn't help it, he laughed out loud.

"Draco," his voice cracked through the now pouting visage of his friend, "until today you'd never had sex before."

"So?" Yup. Definitely pouting.

"So I wasn't interested in inept bumblings." Harry straightened his back, still leaning on his arms. "I wanted to know what sex with an experienced partner was like. Your father is absolutely gorgeous, and very, _very_ experienced. He's a real man." Harry now had a slightly dreamy expression on his face.

"Truly, he's a master at-"

"-Alright!" Draco shot up, his eyes wild. "Bloody, buggering, son of a whore, I don't need to hear this!" Harry jerked as though he'd been slapped. In a way he had. Draco's voice had snapped him out of a rather fond memory of one amazing night, leather cuffs, a topical potion that burned like ice. Lucius really was a master at the art of pleasure and pain, and he had taught Harry a great deal, not just in the bedchamber either. After all, he _was_ the right hand of the Dark Lord. Harry licked suddenly dry lips.

"Damnit-Harry-get-out-of-my-room-right-now!" Draco's voice slapped him into reality again.

"I don't need you fantasizing about my father in my own bloody room! I sleep here!" Harry turned to leave but paused by the doorway at Draco's last comment;"and stay away from my father!"

Harry returned to the common room, a satisfied smirk on his face, and flopping back down in front of his books.

Much of the common room was staring at him, eyes not returning to their own work.

"So," Blaise drawled, her voice penetrating his irritated confusion at all the looks of- no, he wasn't going to go there. Then he realized why everyone was staring at him and his eyes widened a tiny bit.

"You all heard that last comment, didn't you?"

"You need to learn how to close doors." She said as she nodded solemnly.

"The door _was_ closed!" Harry protested.

Suddenly, from across the room one of the older students started to clap, a slow drawling clap that lacked the usual sarcasm of such things. After a few moments others started clapping, until everyone older than about thirteen had joined the grinning accolade.

Harry smirked and got up and bowed before returning to his work. Slowly the common room settled back into the normal buzz of homework and relaxation.

*&*&*&^&*&*&*

"If you tell me your first female was my mother I _will_ kill you." Draco stood in the doorway of Harry and Gregory's room...at two in the morning.

"Wasn't Draco. Go away." Harry grumbled, now very much awake and angry about it.

"You're not lying to me?" Draco didn't move.

"It was Blaise's mother. Go away. Need sleep. Really good dream." There was a choking noise, and the door closed behind the fleeing blond.

"What _is_ his problem?" Harry asked the air after a minute.

"It's not...traditional." Gregory said from the other side of the room, his voice heavy with sleep. "Really weird actually."

"But...It makes _sense_!" Harry complained. "It's like everything else. Good sex is learned, not innate. Why reinvent the wheel when you can find a teacher?" Harry looked over at Gregory, whose eyes were closed, a small smirk on his face. "Don't see Daphne complaining, nor Marcus."

"Yeah. Can you blame me for being glad you and Marcus broke up?" Gregory raised himself on his elbows. "I mean yeah, Ravenclaw's better than Gryffindor, but that boy was over the top."

"True, but that fling definitely caught Daphne's attention." Harry grinned.

"Remember the silencing spells next time." Gregory grumbled. "Now can we get back to sleep."

"Not my fault." Harry said.

"Actually yes, yes it is." Gregory said, and with a twitch of curtains closed himself away from a grinning Harry.


End file.
